Are We All Chosen?

They estimated over 7000 people showed up in hopes of being seen by a doctor this past Wednesday at the Mercy Ship "Screening/Selection Day."  Unfortunately, Selection Day is an emotional roller coaster for all involved.  The patients sometimes come from distant villages just to stand in line for hours and ultimately be told, "I'm sorry but we just cannot help you."  For many, this was their last chance.  Still there were others who were overwhelmed with joy because they had finally been heard.  They were the ones who were then handed yellow appointment cards which signified the day they will be able to come to the ship to have their long awaited surgery. 

So let me back up a bit...There is a large screening day at the beginning of every field service and then there are various smaller screening days at specified times during the 10 month service.  Each screening day is a day that is completely dedicated to selecting potential patients for specific surgeries that are done on Mercy Ships.  With the help of local media and other network agents, word is spread throughout the area that Mercy Ships is a hospital that provides free surgeries to those in need.  As a result, people from all over come in hopes they will be saved from the ridicule they have endured because of their particular ailment.  Unfortunately, not all can be helped which is often difficult - for the patient, as well as for the volunteer who wants nothing more but to be of aide.
 
As potential patients move forward in the line, they are greeted by individuals who prescreen or triage them prior to reaching the registration area.  For lack of better words, this helps to sort of weed out patients that are there with the common cold or headache.  Once patients are registered, they are escorted to a history station.  That's where I was for much of the day.  Along with about 20 other nurses and the saving grace of multiple translators, we went through thousands of health histories.  I began the conversation with familiar questions like, do you have any significant cardiac or respiratory issues, then moved towards questions that were a little more foreign to me such as inquiring about any HIV testing and recent run-ins with malaria.  Once the patient was through with the history, they were escorted to their specialty doctor - their potential surgeon.  At any time these patients could be told (based on their initial complaint, their history, or their actual physical assessment) that they could not be helped.  And let me remind you, there were THOUSANDS of people in the line, which meant they may have waited in line for 8 hours, finally were seen by the doctor, but given the sad news.  While others, just the opposite.  Emotional roller coaster.

Aside from the new level of patience I witnessed (I have never seen children, or even adults, wait in line for 12 hours without complaining until that day), I was beyond impressed by the organization as a whole.  The screening took place at a nearby high school not far from the port.  Before we could even use the area, it had to be prepared.  Tables and desks had to be moved, chairs had to be rearranged, and rooms had to be set up so there was some sort of flow for the influx of people.  Much of this preparation was done by a crew the night before, the rest was finished up before the sun crept up the morning of the big day.  I was part of a group that left the ship and made our way to the school at about 6:30am.  I still can't quite wrap my head around it all.  Hundreds of volunteers who have never met before, somehow managed to work together to shuffle thousands of non English speaking patients to the correct rooms.  I'm sure the higher ups of Mercy Ships found some flaws, but they were invisible to me.  I have never seen something this massive run so smoothly and efficiently.  According to their reports, we saw nearly twice as many people as they did at the last field service and we only stayed a few hours later.

Speaking of staying later...As you can imagine, the line never really seemed to go down.  And being in a room - we couldn't see how far down or how many streets the line outside had snaked through.  Hours passed, the sun was setting, and I again was quickly reminded of where we were.  It was quite remarkable actually, instead of complaining of not being able to see or being tired, each nurse whipped out their headlight or flashlight and carried on like nothing had changed.  We frantically wrote down appointment cards for those who weren't able to be seen by the doctor that day.  Before we knew it, we were filling out the final appointment card.  We were finished!

Clean up crews appeared and volunteers continued to work tirelessly to put the school back the way it was before we started.  We all piled into the land rovers and made the bumpy drive back to the ship - sweaty, hot, tired, drained, and hungry...but I guarantee you, all those feelings were trumped by the soreness each of us had in our hearts for the patients we knew were turned away.